


To Those Who Sing Of Love

by zestymayonaisse



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Also technically an 'everyone survives' AU, M/M, Yet another 'Juzo survives' fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zestymayonaisse/pseuds/zestymayonaisse
Summary: Juzo wakes up in the hospital with Kyosuke by his side and a heavy weight on his heart. Maybe this has been going on long enough. Maybe, just maybe, there's still a future to look forward to.





	1. Chapter 1

   The first thing he was aware of was this strange floating sensation. He wasn’t really conscious, but he was having pretty pleasant dreams in the meantime. Flickering like movies on fast-forward, several images passed—Munakata, Yukizome, and himself sitting on a bench in the summer sun, eating ice cream; the two of them meeting him late after a match just to stay up and watch movies; sparring lessons with Munakata; cooking lessons with Yukizome.

   The second thing he was aware of was pain. Searing pain along his arm and across his chest blossomed and faded. He vaguely remembered attempting to open his eyes, but the fluorescent lights above only made him nauseated. There was noise in the distance, too, but it all sounded like he was underwater. After what felt like days, and the lights seemed a little less harsh and the distant hum around him turned to acute buzzing in his ears, he opened his eyes and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the white tiled ceiling and rhythmic beeping to his right. The second thing he noticed was a sharp inhale to his left and a ragged voice saying “Oh god, you’re awake.”

   Juzo tried to turn his head, but the fog in his mind made it difficult to really focus on anything. He saw Munakata next to him, eyes filled with a level of concern that, if his brain didn’t feel like cotton candy, he’d be pretty embarrassed and disgusted in himself. But then Munakata was speaking again, first distant, then closer, then—

   “How are you feeling?” he asked. Juzo paused to think about how he felt. There was an unignorable deep soreness swimming just under the surface of whatever pain meds they doped him up with. Through the brain fog he tried making a mental checklist of all the important parts, but it must’ve been taking too long, because Munakata was saying his name again.

   Juzo licked his lips. “’M good,” he rasped. “Why’m I in the hospital?” he blinked and looked at Munakata again. “Why do you have an eyepatch?”

   “You did a very brave and pretty reckless thing,” Munakata looked at him and then looked down. Juzo followed his gaze, then looked further down his arm, gauze wrapped snug around his forearm, or what was left of it. A few inches above where his wrist should’ve been was a smooth stump. He closed his eyes and tensed his arms. Like this, he could feel his hand there, but when he opened his eyes, it was pretty hard to deny that it was no longer there. A cold wave of realization washed over him, and he closed his eyes again, trying to push down the nausea. Slowly memories started to surface—the other heads of the future foundation arguing about methods of escape after watching a video from a dead and persistent enemy. Frustration building inside him until he proposed an idea; it wasn’t unanimous, but they couldn’t risk any more people lost. So he…

   Juzo inhaled sharply. “Your eye?” he looked back at his friend. Munakata looked away. Juzo noticed the dark circle under his visible eye, the drooping of his shoulders that Juzo was not used to seeing.

   “Change of leadership,” Munakata said, and then paused, leaning closer to him. “We’re still trying to figure out the details, but the most likely person who set us up was Tengan. This info is to remain among the people who were there.” Juzo stared at him, hoping for some elaboration, but he only looked exhausted.

   Juzo looked back up to the ceiling. Maybe he’d try to make sense of it later, when his thoughts didn’t feel like they were moving too fast for him to catch up with. One thought in particular struck him suddenly, but he was afraid of the answer.

   “Yukizome, did she…?” he hesitated, continuing to stare at the ceiling. A pause.

   “She’s… alive,” Munakata replied, but when Juzo looked over, he looked like he was going to throw up.

   “But?” Juzo offered, waiting to hear the bad news.

   “When you two went undercover at Hope’s Peak, all of class 77-B were brainwashed by Junko Enoshima,” he simply said.

   Juzo waited for him to continue. “What’s that got to do with Yukizome?” Munakata looked at him.

   “They must have done something different to her, but… somehow, she was able to hide the fact that she was brainwashed for over four years,” as Munakata spoke, a pit of anxiety settled in Juzo’s stomach. The other man continued, “It’s possible Yukizome convinced Tengan to set up the game. I mean, even against my better judgement, against the evidence, because she had backed you up, I believed that Junko Enoshima was not worth investigating.”

   Juzo’s eyes burned. “Munakata, I- I didn’t- ‘m not…” the words tumbled out before he could put together a proper sentence. His friend cut him off.

   “What’s done is done, Sakakura. Neither of us knew, and after what you did to save us, I trust that the same thing didn’t happen to you.” Munakata looked down, wringing both hands in his lap. “I don’t think I could handle it if both of you…”

   Juzo would’ve responded, but he was focused on trying to swallow down the disgusting feeling of anxiety and shame wallowing inside him. Munakata must’ve misinterpreted his silence, or perhaps wanted to fill it instead, but he continued talking.

   “Call me a coward, or ideologically weak, I don’t really care. I want to believe the Chisa we know is still in there. Maybe…” Munakata looked up, “maybe the Future Foundation should put a more unified effort into developing a way to cure despair.” He seemed to be waiting for some response, perhaps reassurance from his friend, but Juzo could only seem to mumble a few words.

   “What was that?” he asked.

   “Said, you’re not the coward,” Juzo grimaced, refusing to break eye contact with the ceiling for fear he might start crying. But his eyes burned anyways, only making him feel worse. Munakata seemed to hesitate, hands clasped firmly in his lap. He looked to the monitor across the bed and then back to his friend. Juzo squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry, ‘m not…” he muttered, wishing one arm wasn’t tied down by wires and needles in his arm and the other wasn’t missing a fucking hand so he could at least cover his face.

   “Sakakura, what’s wrong? Do I need to call a nurse?” Munakata offered, so completely unaware of something that had consumed Juzo’s life for the better half of a decade, and only seemed to creep up at the worst moments. Juzo shook his head.

   “Not really important,” he replied weakly. Even after everything they’d been through, Juzo still wanted to avoid discussing this with him, to pretend life could go on as it had always been, living for Munakata’s sake after he’d lost his own.

   “…Okay. If there’s anything you need, please let me know. I can go find someone to help.” But that was a joke. After everything that had happened, even if they all came out the other side together, things would be different. Maybe it was some exhausted stupor that motivated it, maybe it was just something inside him that was so fucking sick of feeling like the past few years of his life was wasted in some way, but this was a band-aid on a festering wound that needed to be ripped off.

   The medication was seeming to wear off, and while it was making it easier to think, it was also making him acutely aware of just how much he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He put off requesting another dose of pain killers if only to stay awake a little longer. The arm that was supposed to be there felt painfully fresh, but he looked back down to it, and sure enough, it was still gone.

   “Actually…” Juzo started, then swallowed dryly. “I dunno. After all this shit, I don’t really think there’s any better time to say it.” His friend looked at him curiously. “It’s kind of a long story. Don’t really expect a reply now, or ever, but I need to get it all out.” Munakata nodded. Juzo took that as his cue.

   “I lied to you,” he said, clenching his jaw, “back then. I’ve been lying to you for a long time. Back when Yukizome and I were undercover at Hope’s Peak, Junko Enoshima… she blackmailed me,” he began. Munakata seemed intent on listening, and Juzo was relieved. If anything were to stop him from saying this, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be up to try again. “When I left to apprehend her, she already had an army of students on her side. She told me she’d been watching me for a while, and she found out something about me I couldn’t… None of us could have known what she wound up being capable of,” he said, repeating something he’d been saying to himself this entire time.

   He steadied his breathing, the quiet electronic beeping to his right having picked up a steadier, faster pace. “It was something that, at the time I was sure would have ruined my life. I thought you’d hate me. Maybe you still might, I don’t know,” Juzo said quietly. Munakata was already shaking his head.

   “I don’t know what she told you that could worry you so much, but this is obviously something you’ve kept to yourself for so long, so whatever it is, I’ll listen,” Munakata offered as reassurance. Juzo nodded and took a shaky breath.

   “Junko somehow found out that I was… I was in love with Kyousuke Munakata,” he said, feeling like the words were being pried from somewhere deep within him, and a cold anxious feeling crept along his neck. Time seemed to stretch on just long enough to make him squirm. He stared at his clenched fist.

   “You… oh. I didn’t…” Munakata held his forehead and stared at the floor. He opened his mouth, then closed it, mouth pursed firmly. Juzo spoke up quickly.

   “L-like I said, I don’t expect a response. I’d understand if you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. It was a stupid, selfish thing, and if you hate me for it, that’s completely understanda-“

   “Juzo,” Munakata said, almost a bit angrily, but he caught himself once he had Juzo’s attention. Juzo looked away from him to stare at his remaining hand, clasping and unclasping it. Munakata studied his friend’s face. “Please look at me.” Juzo reluctantly did. Munakata seemed to hesitate, lifting a hand before putting it back on his thigh. When he looked back up, the other man held an expression of confusion and reluctance. Munakata stared back for a moment before responding.

   “Is it alright if I give you half of my response now?” he asked. Juzo only seemed more confused, but nodded hesitantly. Kyousuke sighed and then sat up. “Sakakura, you’ve been by my side for years. None of what I’ve done would’ve been possible without your help. I’m… I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me.” Juzo opened his mouth to speak, but the other man held up a hand to stop him.

   “I have not been a good friend to you. I get so wrapped up in these grand plans to fight despair, or save the world, or run an organization, I forget to be there for my friends. I- I didn’t even know Chisa was-“ he sighed with frustration, gritting his teeth and looking away. “It’s something I want to work on. After everything we’ve been through, and everything you’ve done for me, I could never hate you for your honesty.”

   Juzo stared at him. Munakata looked back up. “That’s all.”

   “And the other half…?” Juzo asked. The other man blinked.

   “Well, that was a proper confession, wasn’t it? I don’t want to give you a response until I’m sure,” he said, like it was obvious. Juzo raised his eyebrows and couldn’t help but feel a blush tinge his face. He looked away as the slightest smile tugged as his mouth.

   “Please don’t get my hopes up,” Juzo laughed rather humorlessly.

   Munakata furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. “I’m not trying to.”

   “Oh,” he said, looking back up to the grey tiles on the ceiling. The pain was becoming unignorable, sharper, but he almost welcomed it. At least it meant he was alive. He didn’t come out the other side in one piece, but for the first time in a while he felt like his own future wasn’t so dark after all.

   “What do we do now?” Juzo asked, breaking the silence of the room sans the vitals monitor and hum of the building. Munakata stretched his arms and stood up.

   “You’re going to rest,” he said, offering a button for administering meds that must’ve been hooked behind the bed. “I’m going to go work on damage control.” Sakakura took the button and pressed it.

   “Good luck. If anyone gets too rowdy put ‘em on my schedule in a few weeks,” Juzo said jokingly. Munakata raised an eyebrow and looked at his now shorter arm.

   “Relax, man. I can hit just as good with my right,” he said, wiggling his fingers. Munakata shook his head.

   “I don’t doubt you.” The medicine was starting to kick in now, a pleasant numbing feeling wrapping itself around Juzo like a blanket. He closed his eyes.

   “You gonna stop by again?” he asked as Munakata put on his coat.

   “Of course. I may not be here when you wake up, but I’ll stop by as long as you’ll have me. Or as long as I can, at least,” he nodded. Juzo hummed in response.

   “Sounds good. Later,” Juzo muttered, exhaustion and relief from the pain easing him back into sleep. The last thing he heard was the man’s shoes tapping down the hallway, and the last thing he thought was that he was looking forward to tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

   It was two weeks later that Juzo found himself outside the physical therapy clinic, the early afternoon chill still seeping into his coat. It was new, his old one getting torn beyond reasonable repair, and he wasn’t quite sure he was a fan of the nylon lining that took its sweet time absorbing his own body heat. It was just another unfortunate change in his life he had to get used to recently.

   He gazed at the watch on his right wrist. 1:23. He clutched his jacket closed and leaned back on the bench he was sitting on. He felt the sunshine on the back of his eyelids, and his brow almost relaxed for a minute. He was trying to ignore the feeling of the tag of his shirt on his neck, and the hum and bustle of the city nearby. There was a twinge of itchiness on his foot. And the sunshine was starting to get a little too hot for comfort—

   Juzo sat up suddenly and tried to put his head in his hands, but instead missed half of his face and bumped the sore, still bandaged wrist on his temple. He cursed, gripping his arm, then sighed with annoyance. Oh my god, he really couldn’t do this.

   It was at that moment when he started feeling his chest tighten that he heard someone walk up beside him. He looked up and saw Munakata holding two cups in his hands, gaze flat, then a look of concern. The feeling in Juzo’s chest waivered, and he rubbed his forehead and took his cup.

   “Are you alright?” his friend asked, sitting down next to him. Juzo grumbled and sipped at the coffee, burning his tongue to avoid an immediate comment. He noticed their knees were close. He sat up, scooting ever so slightly away.

   “Fine. Just…” he closed his eyes, and when he lifted his left arm to clench his fist, he really could feel it. “This whole thing is making me impatient, I’unno.”

   Munakata nodded and took a sip of his own coffee. “How’d today go?” he asked, looking over at Sakakura. The other man looked down at his arm.

   “Frustrating as usual. Now that the stitches are out they want me to try using a prosthetic hand. I know it’s a process, but god it’s so fucking slow,” he grumbled and took a slower sip of his coffee. _Not enough milk_ , he noted mentally, scrunching his nose. Kyousuke nodded and looked away, touching his own eyepatch.

   “If it’s any consolation,” he started, “I tried pouring myself tea the other day and completely missed the cup. I just dumped it all over the counter.” Sakakura snorted.

   “Yukizome is going to be taking care of both our sorry asses till we’re old,” he smiled wryly. It took him a second before he froze and looked at his friend. “Oh, I mean if—sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it up,” he mumbled hesitantly, looking away to stare at his cup.

   Munakata shook his head. “It’s fine. Really,” he shrugged.

   The short silence after was starting to dig at Juzo’s nerves. He peeked out the corner of his eye at the other man. “How are things going with that anyways?” He seemed to think about it for a moment, taking a sip of coffee.

   “Well, Miss Gekkogahara has been making progress beyond what I was expecting, since being given full time and resources to dedicate herself,” he finally said. “At least from the reports I have received. I feel like this only confirms my suspicions that she’d been doing much more before this even on her own.”

   Juzo nodded sternly before looking up. “Reports? You mean you haven’t stopped by in person yet?” he asked. Munakata readjusted himself and gripped his cup.

   “Ah, well, that’s—I actually… She’s conducting her research in the hospital where comatose victims are being cared for. I, well. I wanted to ask if you would join me, if you’re feeling well enough,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. Juzo stared at the other man, trying to read him. Was he… nervous?

   “Is Yukizome… is that the hospital she’s being kept at?” he asked. Kyousuke nodded and took a sip of his coffee, fingers pressing indentions in his cup from the tension in his hand. “Of course I will. I’m worried about her too, y’know,” he added, giving him a serious look. His friend’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

   “Thank you,” he said. The background noise of the world around them trickled back into Juzo’s mind as their conversation died. He took periodic swigs of his coffee, trying to focus on the sensation of warmth as he drank, if only to drown out how irritating his shirt tag was starting to become. He was going to have to rip it off when he got home.

   It wasn’t until he realized he was out of coffee that he’d tuned back in to notice his friend staring at him rather amusedly. He felt suddenly self-conscious.

   “What?” he asked, furrowing his already perpetually-furrowed brow. Munakata huffed in what must’ve been a laugh and shook his head.

   “In five minutes I watched you mechanically chug your coffee, and all of a sudden you got this frustrated look on your face when you realize you’d drank it all,” he laughed again. The sound ringed in Sakakura’s ears. He blushed and looked away.

   “Sorry,” Munakata apologized lightheartedly, waving his free hand.

   Juzo set down down the empty cup and checked his watch. 1:57. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with himself today, but he knew Munakata, and he was sure the other man would be needed somewhere soon. He opened his mouth to ask, but Kyousuke was already one step ahead.

   “So, what are your plans today?” he asked casually, crossing his legs. Juzo was mildly startled out of his thoughts.

   “Well, since a certain someone insisted I remain on medical leave,” Juzo gave Munakata a disgruntled look, but his friend ignored him. “I’m gonna work on my homework.”

   “Homework?” Kyousuke echoed.

   “Physical therapist told me I’d need to keep up exercising and try learning to rely on my right hand now,” he explained. “My, uh, other therapist said I should ‘keep a journal’. I told the guy, ‘What, like a teenage girl keeps a diary?’” he scoffed.

   “And what did he say?” Munakata asked, trying not to smile.

   “Just ‘yes,’ but like I was a fuckin’ idiot, y’know?” He huffed and threw his hand up. The other man half-heartedly tried to hide his laugh, then sat up straighter.

   “It’s not a bad idea,” he said. “Think of it like… Well, if you’re going to practice writing with your non-dominant hand, you’ll need something to write about.” Juzo nodded and sighed.

   “Yeah, yeah, Doctor Munakata. I’ll think about it, promise.” He recieved a nod in response. Juzo looked over at him, crossing his arms. “What are your plans, then?”

   “I’m planning to stop by the fourth branch office today, actually. I’m going to talk to Kimura to request her assistance with the cure project.” he responded. Sakakura looked surprised.

   “Kimura… I think she—” he cut himself off. _If she’s like me, of course she’d agree._ He coughed. “She may be surprised to hear it. At least be honest with her about why you’re doing this.” Kyousuke looked at him, but Juzo wasn’t sure what his face was trying to say.

   “I will do that. Actually,” he spoke finally, picking up his phone to check the time. “It seems about time I head out.” Munakata drank the last of his coffee and stood up to dust off his pants.

   Juzo felt a twinge of dread at the other man having to leave. All he wanted, really, was to just have… more of this. He knew, knowing how much Munakata was working to keep everything quiet after the last attempted killing game, that he was lucky to get to see the man at all today. He felt, though, with his time being wasted on recovery and not being back at work, that it made the gaps between moments like this more unbearably long than usual.

   Juzo snapped out of his thoughts long enough to notice Munakata staring at him. He jumped slightly, embarassed, and mumbled an apology. Munakata offered a hand to take his empty cup.

   “Thanks for coffee,” Juzo said, reaching for his keys. The other man nodded.

   “Of course. It’ll be your turn to buy next time,” he noted. “Are you going to stay a while longer?” he asked. Juzo hummed in response and waved. Munakata hesitated for a moment.

   “Actually, before I go. I wanted to let you know,” he began, shifting his weight. “I did not forget my promise. I just… have not gotten much time to think about it.” It took a moment for Juzo to remember what he was talking about, but when he did, he felt his face turn red. _R-right. I confessed to him._ It had been long enough without Munakata acknowledging it had happened that Juzo secretly hoped that he had imagined it.

   “It’s—it’s fine. I get it. I mean, if, uh, if you wanna just, y’know, do me a favor and forget I…” Juzo trailed off, but before he could pick back up his train of thought, Munakata responded.

   “No, you deserve a response. I actually would like to… sit down and talk, when we have the time. Actually talk, I mean. If that is alright with you.” he asked, and despite his own discomfort, Sakakura could tell that Munakata was just as out-of-his-element as he himself felt with this whole deal. He swallowed, his throat dry.

   “Al- alright,” he agreed. He was fidgeting with the keys in his jacket pocket, wanting desperately to be done with this entire situation he had to go and get himself into.

   “Alright. See you, then,” his friend nodded once and turned away to locate his car. Juzo watched him for a second, his shoulders only relaxing when he could no longer see the other man. He buried his face in his hand, and wrapped his shorter arm around his stomach. The anxious feeling in his stomach nearly made him woozy. Oh god. He most definitely could not do this. He'd managed to get through all these years by forcing himself to swallow his heart and not fool himself into thinking anything would come of it. But now that he had to go and open his big mouth, so many of the feelings he thought he'd successfully repressed were coming back, just as intense as before.

   “Maybe I do need a fuckin’ diary,” he muttered to himself as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contact list to find one pharmacist and text her a warning. _Munakata incoming. 20 min._ He put his phone back in his pocket and stood up. Clouds obscured the last warmth of sunlight, making him shiver.

   He walked quickly back to his car after decided he’d rather be embarassed in the comfort of his own apartment than in a hospital park. He got in the seat of his car and wrapped his left wrist in a makeshift sling tied to the steering wheel so he could still use both arms to steer. Perhaps not doctor-approved, but it made driving less annoying. He sat for a moment, resting his head on his arm and trying to swallow down the burning sensation in his chest. This was definitely not good for his heart. He wondered for a moment if long-term unrequited love could be considered a health condition. Maybe he’d have to ask.

   On his way out of the parking lot he decided he was probably going to pay Kimura a visit of his own sometime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! March has been a mess so far. I wanna dedicate this chapter to everyone who commented and left kudos on chapter one. It means a lot! This is going to wind up being way longer than initially planned, at this rate. Thanks for reading!


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